


never is a promise, and you can't afford to lie (TEASER)

by calicomoon



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Tangled (2010), THIS IS A TEASER!!!, and won't be for a long time, so there's no shame in not being excited for this yet, this story is coming but it's not ready yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 17:22:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calicomoon/pseuds/calicomoon
Summary: The stars are beaming brightly down on Hanna City on the night that Leia loses her son.A canonverse Tangled AU featuring Moody Kidnapped Dark Prince, Orphan Desert Rat Turned Thief for Maz Kanata, and Crumbly Old Evil Creep. This is a TEASER for the next story I will be working on after I wrap up the radio host AU I currently have in progress. Will update summary and character/ship tags once this story truly gets rolling. :)





	never is a promise, and you can't afford to lie (TEASER)

**Author's Note:**

> THE TANGLED AU I HAVE BEEN DREAMING ABOUT SINCE BEFORE I JOINED A03

The stars are beaming brightly down on Hanna City on the night that Leia loses her son.

She is jolted awake – not by her baby’s wails, though the pain of them tugs at her heartstrings so hard she fears it will be torn to shreds – by a cold darkness that threatens to consume her, to swallow her family whole. “Han,” she chokes, only taking half a moment to shake him before throwing off the covers, jumping out of bed, and of course she knows the answer before she even asks herself the question but how does he not _feel_ it, this sweeping dark that blankets their home…

She doesn’t wait for Han to stir. Her boy is absolutely howling now, torn asunder, she’s certain, by the same push and pull that plagued him even within her womb. Leia turns the corner, reaching blindly for the door to the nursery, with a hand that is and is not her own, the Force turning the handle for her before she’s close enough to touch it.

The wailing stops.

The door flies open.

The nursery is a cozy, charming little room, a shrine to everything Han and Leia hold dear. It is finely decorated with gifts from various worlds of the New Republic: a handcrafted bookcase, full of books of folktales and poetry from the writers of Gatalenta; a tapestry depicting Leia’s former home world, woven in colors of snow and sky, from the few survivors of its destruction; a toy stuffed ikopi from the Naboo monarchy, sewn to appear infinitely more charming than the real thing. Though he’d already given the catamaran, in the corner, hanging on a rack, is Lando’s cape in miniature, still too big for its intended wearer. Leia can hardly see any of it now. The room is cloaked in shadow, a hooded figure standing at the center of the room with a bundle in its arms. A shock of brown-black hair peeks out from beneath the blankets.

Leia feels the violent tear in the Force as they disappear; she staggers back, nearly tumbles to the ground, but Han catches her as he enters the room. His breath hitches. Leia knows he’s looking at the empty crib.

“Leia,” he rasps in her ear, haggard and sick with worry, “Leia, where’s Ben?”

She barely hears him. The window is open, the curtains billowing in the cool night breeze. Leia walks toward it, looks down at the ocean lapping at the shore below, thinks of Ben gurgling and cooing at the sight and sound of it each night before falling asleep in her arms. In the waves, she sees the shimmering reflections of the stars above. When Leia lifts her head to consider them, she does not know where to land her gaze. They all glimmer and glow, all begging for her attention at once. _He could be here. Or here. He’s come to me. Up here, up here._

The weight of it is too much, so Leia turns back to the nursery. Han is leaning out into the hall, shouting for help, reaching for the blaster that should be at his hip on instinct despite having just rolled out of bed.

Her grief, anguish, fury is so _heavy_ that she sinks to the floor. Han grips her by the shoulders and pulls her back to her feet.

“Hey. We’ll find him,” he says firmly. “He’ll be alright.”

She nods, refusing to cry. Not when her son needs her. “I know.”

Leia looks out at the vast smattering of stars that taunts her, momentarily directionless, until all of her instincts come flooding back. There are search parties to rally, political allies to consult, spies to question. She is not directionless. There is only one way forward: the way that leads to Ben.

**Author's Note:**

> :)
> 
> Title is taken from Fiona Apple's "Never is a Promise"


End file.
